different. It was proving as deliberate and overwhelming as the rest of his actions.
"I'm ready for a home and a woman of my own, little one, and I'm going to get it."
"Josh, be reasonable," Reva urged gently, her heart suddenly going out to this man who had convinced himself that he wanted what other men his age had and was going to take it. "Your... your job isn't exactly conducive to a good home life. You must see that." She felt him tense at her words.
"What's wrong with my career?" he asked, sounding startled. She wondered that he had never questioned his own brutal line of work. "I can support a wife!" He sounded as if he'd taken offense at the implication.
Reva took a deep breath, managing to free one of her
wrists at last. She looked into Josh's now perplexed expression and sighed. "People who fight other people's wars for them couldn't possibly make good husbands. Admit it, Josh. What you want is for men who live normal lives and have normal jobs."
"Other people's wars!" He looked positively astounded. Levering himself up into a sitting position and bracing himself against the headboard with one hand he glared down into her tightly drawn face. "What the hell are you talking about, Reva Waring!"
Reva bit her lip, not having expected him to try and deny his means of livelihood. Whatever else he might be, Josh was honest. Or at least she had always thought him so. "It was pretty obvious what you were doing down there in South America, Josh," she said quietly, sitting up and adjusting the nightgown back into position. She used the small action as an excuse not to meet his eyes. She knew he was getting angry. But he reached out and snagged her chin, forcing her full attention. The grim set of his face made her swallow nervously.
"You think," he began slowly, as if not quite able to comprehend the extent of her stupidity, "that I'm some kind of damn mercenary?"
"Aren't you?" she replied in a small, flat voice.
"No!" he slung back instantly, clearly incensed. "God in heaven, woman, whatever gave you that idea?"
"It... it seemed obvious, Josh," she murmured a little desperately, thoroughly confused herself now. "Everything about you . . ." Her hand waved in a vague little motion as she let the sentence falter. "The first time I saw you, you were carrying that rifle and you looked as if you'd been doing it half your life. And you didn't even pause when you shot that creature who was attacking me.
You seemed so hard and tough. Oh, Josh, what was I to think?"
"You could have asked me!" he growled.
"How do you ask a man if he's a professional killer!" she biazed. But a strange sense of hope was flickering alive deep inside. Firmly she stamped it out. Even if this man wasn't what she had thought, he still was not the one for her.
"R.eva, you little idiot, it never occurred to me that you thought I was a professional mercenary. I thought I told you at one point that I was in the country doing business with its government when that uprising broke out." Josh shook his head in exasperation.
"I thought that was just a polite way of saying you worked for the ruling faction," Reva mumbled, beginning to be embarrassed by the misunderstanding. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and was glad of the darkness. Josh's fingers still clamped her face in a viselike grip, though, and it was impossible to turn away.
"Reva," he began with clearly limited patience, "as the senior company man on the scene when the revolutionaries attempted to overthrow the government, it was my responsibility to oversee the evacuation of my firm's personnel. It was in the course of that process that I acquired the weapons. They were given to me by a military officer because he couldn't spare the men needed to protect our people. I got our personnel out and then decided to stay behind to protect my company's interests. There was talk of nationalizing all foreign-owned businesses. I had some contacts in the government and thought that if I stayed on
"I'm ready for a home and a woman of my own, little one, and I'm going to get it."
"Josh, be reasonable," Reva urged gently, her heart suddenly going out to this man who had convinced himself that he wanted what other men his age had and was going to take it. "Your... your job isn't exactly conducive to a good home life. You must see that." She felt him tense at her words.
"What's wrong with my career?" he asked, sounding startled. She wondered that he had never questioned his own brutal line of work. "I can support a wife!" He sounded as if he'd taken offense at the implication.
Reva took a deep breath, managing to free one of her
wrists at last. She looked into Josh's now perplexed expression and sighed. "People who fight other people's wars for them couldn't possibly make good husbands. Admit it, Josh. What you want is for men who live normal lives and have normal jobs."
"Other people's wars!" He looked positively astounded. Levering himself up into a sitting position and bracing himself against the headboard with one hand he glared down into her tightly drawn face. "What the hell are you talking about, Reva Waring!"
Reva bit her lip, not having expected him to try and deny his means of livelihood. Whatever else he might be, Josh was honest. Or at least she had always thought him so. "It was pretty obvious what you were doing down there in South America, Josh," she said quietly, sitting up and adjusting the nightgown back into position. She used the small action as an excuse not to meet his eyes. She knew he was getting angry. But he reached out and snagged her chin, forcing her full attention. The grim set of his face made her swallow nervously.
"You think," he began slowly, as if not quite able to comprehend the extent of her stupidity, "that I'm some kind of damn mercenary?"
"Aren't you?" she replied in a small, flat voice.
"No!" he slung back instantly, clearly incensed. "God in heaven, woman, whatever gave you that idea?"
"It... it seemed obvious, Josh," she murmured a little desperately, thoroughly confused herself now. "Everything about you . . ." Her hand waved in a vague little motion as she let the sentence falter. "The first time I saw you, you were carrying that rifle and you looked as if you'd been doing it half your life. And you didn't even pause when you shot that creature who was attacking me.
You seemed so hard and tough. Oh, Josh, what was I to think?"
"You could have asked me!" he growled.
"How do you ask a man if he's a professional killer!" she biazed. But a strange sense of hope was flickering alive deep inside. Firmly she stamped it out. Even if this man wasn't what she had thought, he still was not the one for her.
"R.eva, you little idiot, it never occurred to me that you thought I was a professional mercenary. I thought I told you at one point that I was in the country doing business with its government when that uprising broke out." Josh shook his head in exasperation.
"I thought that was just a polite way of saying you worked for the ruling faction," Reva mumbled, beginning to be embarrassed by the misunderstanding. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and was glad of the darkness. Josh's fingers still clamped her face in a viselike grip, though, and it was impossible to turn away.
"Reva," he began with clearly limited patience, "as the senior company man on the scene when the revolutionaries attempted to overthrow the government, it was my responsibility to oversee the evacuation of my firm's personnel. It was in the course of that process that I acquired the weapons. They were given to me by a military officer because he couldn't spare the men needed to protect our people. I got our personnel out and then decided to stay behind to protect my company's interests. There was talk of nationalizing all foreign-owned businesses. I had some contacts in the government and thought that if I stayed on
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